


Lightning Strikes Twice

by vuas



Category: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Demon!Kylo, Dirty Talk, Dom/sub, Dominant Kylo Ren, F/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Pregnancy Kink, Size Difference, Size Kink, Witch!Rey, but very minor tbh, ok folks there’s not much else to it!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-20
Updated: 2020-04-20
Packaged: 2021-03-01 23:26:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,776
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23755336
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vuas/pseuds/vuas
Summary: Rey gives up her First-Born to the Demon, Kylo Ren, in return for her Grandfather’s life.The thing is—she doesn’t have one to give.Yet.
Relationships: Kylo Ren/Rey, Rey/Ben Solo | Kylo Ren
Comments: 115
Kudos: 1672
Collections: Reylo Prompt Fills (@reylo_prompts)





	Lightning Strikes Twice

**Author's Note:**

> So we’ve all seen the prompt right? First born mix up? Anyways Rey lands herself a monster boyfriend. There are no downsides.

Rey is thirteen when her Grandfather Kenobi hands her the Dark Book. It’s standard coming-of-age for a witch, complete with the family tome—smooth, aged leather carefully passed down from one witch to another, full of magic that sticks to your soul, creating a bond that strengthens with each use, giving and taking. For her, it becomes an only friend.

Rey doesn’t _typically_ practice the darker arts. Mostly she’s spent the past six years perfecting her gardening spells, brewing balms and healing potions for the villagers that live outside the forest. She lives a quiet existence, taming fairy infestations and harvesting deer’s breath, tapping syrup from the ancient trees that surround her little cottage as she studies to become a fully-grown witch.

_Typically_ , of course, being the operative word.

Rey hadn’t cried, exactly, when she unfolded the parchment letter flown in by owl that informed her that grandfather was on the verge of the Great Veil—death was coming to claim him. Soon.

Instead she had pushed back against the great injustice of it—after all, it was just one year more until she could return from her solitary apprenticeship and go back to her family. Surely there was an answer buried somewhere deep in her potential power that would be able to save the man who had saved her.

So on a perfect October night, Rey scratches her final runes into the forest floor and waits for the witching hour—when the clock rings true, and the wolves cry out into the night at the silver moon—Rey takes a deep breath and steels herself before she speaks the unspeakable into existence.

* * *

Kylo Ren has not heard his name called in a long time.

He lounges in his throne with a quirk of a frown, rolling his bejeweled crown between deft fingers. Prince of the Underworld was a vast and boring title—he ruled with an iron fist over his dominion. In fact, rumors of his cruelty had spread so far and wide that he was hardly ever summoned topside anymore. After the last incident with Merlin—

But even a Prince is bound to the rules of the treaty. He’s required to make an appearance if a witch goes into the trouble of calling him, just as witches are required to bend to his demands if they choose to enter an agreement.

The call pulls again, weaving tighter.

So someone has a deathwish? 

He can indulge. Kylo Ren is ever so bored.

* * *

The ground is icy cold when her knees give out—she remembers only her third and final cast, and then having to shut her eyes against the plume of shimmering smoke that had exploded over her runes and thrown her into the carrot patch.

A little rude, this demon. Theatrics really are their thing, though, so she’s not surprised.

Rey wipes the crud from her face and picks up her Dark Book where it’s crushing some cabbage leaves—the cloud of black smoke twists and turns on itself, shuddering with power.

“Kylo Ren,” she calls. “Uh—thanks for coming, I guess. Sorry it’s late; I was looking at the Russian pronunciation of the third incantation, so the first time I got the Dark Lord of the DMV—“

_Little witch_ , hisses the demon prince, who continues to stubbornly shimmer about like a petulant puff of smoke. _You dare to—_

“Would you mind taking your corporeal form? I don’t really know where to look when you’re doing the whole—“ she waves a hand in the air, gesturing vaguely, ”—angry cloud thing.”

There’s a burst of energy that blows her back a few feet—her black dress is probably ruined by now, streaked with mud.

She looks up, ready to tear this demon with an attitude a new one—

He’s. _Quite_ tall.

As if it’s the least of her problems—She hadn’t realized that Kylo Ren would be so— _so_ much, height aside.

He’s mostly humanish, though a head taller than any man she’s ever met in the kingdom. It’s as if he couldn’t contain his power in a normal body; his shoulders are broad, his waist and thighs thick and arms built. He’s dressed in all black to his neck, a cloak rippling at his feet, only serving to make him seem even bigger than he was.

Then there was his face: sharp golden eyes, luscious hair curling at the nape of his neck, and sharp, sharp teeth. And his crown, surprisingly delicate gold work forged with the blood of virgins. Between the rim, two curved horns rise from his inky locks of hair—the sign of the devil.

His eyes rake over her. Rey gapes like a fish, trying to think of what she was going to say.

“You know, witches used to do these rituals _naked_.”

Rey blushes, looking down at her dress. She’s not afraid of nakedness, especially in front of a demon—she’s technically been the bride of darkness since she opened the Dark Book. It’s just—nobody’s ever _asked_ before.

“If it’s a problem, I can try calling someone else.”

“Unnecessary,” he answers, tone clipped. “Just an observation on my many years in service. You seem far too young and pretty to be part of the traditional crowd.” There’s an odd tinge of humor in his voice. Is he teasing her? Or flirting with her? 

He steps to the edge of the rune circle, which is as far as he’s allowed to go until Rey has made her request. Any farther and he’d be thrown right back to hell. He tilts his head, predatory. “What do you require, little witch?”

“Oh— _oh_! Right.” She takes a deep breath. “It’s my grandfather. He’s sick.”

“Predictable,” Kylo Ren mutters, crouching down on the ground, flicking his eyes up to hers. “Mortals and their lifespans.”

“Well, maybe, I guess.” She feels a rush of pink over her face. “I only have a year left of my apprenticeship, and then my exile will be over and I can go visit him one last time.”

“So you need me to keep him alive until then?”

Rey nods, captivated by his eyes. It’s like they glow. 

“I’m the god of _death_ , not life, little one.”

“You’ve done it before.”

He smiles, fangs glimmering in the moonlight.

“You’ll have to give up something quite...valuable, my dear. Not just afavorite broom or your fattest toad. We’re talking real _sacrifice_.”

His eyes bore into hers on the last word.

“I’m ready,” she nods. 

The demon looks her up and down, from her knee socks, pausing on the necklace between her breasts. He hums in thought, before standing up and positively dwarfing her. 

“First born child,” he announces with finality, smirking, the physical embodiment of _gotcha_.

Rey allows herself a moment to take it all in, but doesn’t hesitate a second more. “I accept, Kylo Ren.”

* * *

The Prince of the Underworld feels his shoulders drop slightly. This is...rather unprecedented.

“I—are you sure?” He asks, blinking at her. He’s used to more... _crying_.

The girl tilts her head, almost innocently. “Yeah? Do I need to repeat the incantation on the positive plane or something to seal it?”

“No,” he answers, feeling power prickle in his mouth—power he’s able to sap from her to do her bidding. “What you said was sufficient. As long as you’re sure.”

His eyes flick to the house. The brat must be sleeping. Oh god, he had been bluffing—taking on a first born sacrifice meant adding to the ranks of his undead officers, it was so much paperwork and HR was _never_ helpful—

The little witch pokes him in the chest. “Grandfather first. Then I’ll...do my part.” She blushes, looking down.

His eyes narrow down at her. “I’ll be back,” he hisses. “Don’t think I won’t be collecting.”

There’s a loud crack of thunder, and the runes vanish with Kylo Ren in a gust of air.

Rey blows out a lungful of air, adrenaline leaving her body. 

How on earth old witches ever did all that naked, she’ll never know. It’s _freezing_ out here.

* * *

It’s not a simple spell to keep a mortal alive, even temporarily. Kylo often considers most of his magic second-hand nature by now; but he spends at least ten minutes standing like a shadow at the end of the old man’s bed, mulling over the best way to go about spinning a thread through the human’s lifeblood.

Eventually when kylo’s tongue rolls over the last syllable of the incantation, Kenobi shudders in his sleep and goes still—but his face relaxes, now free of pain.

The reprieve would last only a few hours until the little witch completed her dues.

He grits his teeth and teleports again back to the cottage in the woods—the girl is sitting on a tree stump, holding her pointed hat in her hands, waiting for him to return.

“Did it work?” She comes bounding up to him, breathless.

“Yes,” he drones. “The spell will seal if you’ve made your offering by dawn.”

Kylo blinks in surprise as a pair of skinny arms positively launch themselves around his middle—the witch is...trying to attack him maybe. Squeeze him to death? Antichrist, humans really are dull.

She tilts her head up, eyes brimming with happiness. Her chin digs into his belly. “Thank you, Kylo Ren. I promise you won’t regret it.”

Ok, now that he thinks about it, this could be what humans refer to as a “ _hug_ ”.

It’s. Nice. Sort of. She’s very warm.

“The child—“ he begins. Maybe she’s trying to distract him by appearing very cute.

“Yes, we should get started if this needs to be done by dawn—“

“Get...started?”

The little witch unbuttons the the collar of her dress, stepping back a few paces as if to let him observe. “Do you think we could go inside? On the bed? I mean, it’s whatever you want, really, but between you and me, I don’t want to be fishing twigs from my hair all day tomorrow. I have a twin bed, and I’ll cast a quick spell to make it big enough for both of us—“

Kylo swallows. “A bed? For—“

“For my first born, yeah.”

He feels a flush crawl up to his ears. “ _Ah_.”

The girl unbuttons the material of her dress just below her breasts—his eyes trail over a flash of pink skin and he has to swallow the growing need in his veins. Surely— _surely_ he’s misunderstanding.

The witch meets his eyes and doesn’t blink. “I mean—you have...the equipment, correct? Sorry if I presumed—“

The Prince of the Underworld chokes on his own spittle, nodding.

“Uhhh...ok then! Sounds like we’re pretty settled? Come this way—“ Rey calls, disappearing into the cottage.

Kylo nods, mostly to himself before standing tall and striding over to claim what’s his.

* * *

Rey putters about her little home, rearranging things to fit the temporarily enlarged bed. She can’t stop stealing glances at the demon currently sitting at her kitchen table—his hands politely folded into his lap, cursory glances being cast upon her bookshelves and knitting. He looks a little out of place, far too large for the chair he’s crammed himself into.

“How old are you?” Rey asks conversationally. “The book doesn’t specify.”

He runs a tongue over his fangs. “I was thirty when I died in Kievan Rus. And it’s been...oh, say give or take a hundred—about 900 years since I entered the Dark Relm?”

“I’m nineteen,” she smiles over her shoulder, bent over and pushing her desk by the window with a grunt. “I’m studying under the Jedi clan, but you probably guessed that.”

“Yes,” his golden eyes roll over her. “Though they don’t usually allow infractions like lifeblood magic, hmm?”

Rey laughs nervously. “Uhm—well—nobody ever specifically told me _not_ to.”

“Better to beg for forgiveness, little one?” Is it just her, or is the fire too hot? “Perhaps you’ll need to be punished.”

“How...” her voice cracks. His hands are really very large—it would take him just one, maybe to cover the entirety of her ass. “How was Kievan Rus in the glory days?”

He stands—his horns almost tearing into the ceiling.

“Very prosperous. I had a lot of power. But—“ his eyes dialate, taking another step forward—Rey comes to the realization that she has, like the _genius_ she is, invited the Dark into her home—into her bed—between her thighs—

“Not nearly as much power as I wield now.”

“That’s— _great_.” Rey feels the back of her knees hit the mattress, and she stumbles. There’s no more time to run—she has to face what she’s asked for.

“Tell me, little witch. Have you offered yourself to others?”

Rey swallows. The demon takes another step forward. He’s within reach—he couldtouch her if he liked.

“No,” she whispers. She’s fooled around with farm boys—mostly kissing and petting in golden fields of hay. But they don’t quite captivate her attention. 

Not like _him_.

“Good,” he says, kneeling at her feet. “I’m a very selfish creature, Rey. Possessive, even.” One of his hands come up slowly to lay over her thigh—Rey swallows nervously again, realizing he almost completely dwarfs her.

“And you’re sure you want to give yourself to me?” He quirks an eyebrow. He lets another arm slide up along her hip, his fingers catching as her waist. 

Rey thinks that as a human, he surely would have been handsome, charming even.

But now he’s—less human, more of the ether. Rey shudders each time a wave of energy rolls off of him—she can sense how he’s easily warping time and space to be here with her. To indulge himself as he plans with her body.

Rey nods. “I do—I want to, I mean.” Wracked with nerves, she spreads her thighs an inch.

The demon smiles at her, pressing a small kiss to her knee—which shouldn’t make her blush, but it does. “You’ll need to take your clothes off first, little one.”

“Oh— _oh_ , ok—sorry—“ she shimmies up on the bed a little (narrowly avoiding kicking him in the ribs, to her embarrassment). She grips the hem of her dress with trembling fingers, dragging it up her thigh to her hips, and—

Warm hands find her own, surprisingly gentle as he shoos her away to take care of it himself. 

“Arms up,” he orders, and Rey obliges, feeling odd and floaty. She’s thankful that the dress covers her face for a moment—giving her a chance to breathe before—

Firelight hits her face again and she opens her eyes; Kylo Ren stands before her, silhouetted, eyes flitting over every inch of her body, the remains of her dress crumpled in his hand.

Rey blinks and looks down at her small hips and thin waist—she had always been rather slight, but had never really considered herself before in terms of sex. Perhaps he would find her undesirable—she’s seen paintings of Lilith and other succubi—plump and ripe, nothing like her.

“Perfect,” the demon intones. “A very beautiful offering.”

She blinks up at him. “Oh.”

“Take off my tunic, little one.”

Rey sits up, very aware of her nakedness in the cool of the night air. His clothes are simple but luxurious—the thick fabric is soft to the touch.

Rey stands before him and reaches up on the tips of her toes to pull at the clasp of his cloak, which is surprisingly heavy—it folds over in her arms, and Rey drapes it on a hook near the bed where her own already rests.

Rey steels herself and turns back to judge his tunic, ignoring his penetrating stare—she lifts the hem to reveal pale skin stretched over a sculpted body—

Rey shivers. She knew she liked men but this is—so _much_ of one.

“Keep going,” he murmurs, studying her curiously.

Rey holds her breath and tugs—he bends slightly, otherwise she’d never be able to get it off.

Rey gasps—unsure why, it’s not as if the tunic managed to conceal the fact that he was built in a way that seemed like fantasy. But he’s so _beautiful_.

His hands catch her around the middle—Rey startles as the sudden rush of warmth that accompanies being touched—only to be tossed back against her pile of pillows with hardly any effort on his part.

“Stay there,” he says, reaching for the ties on his trousers, slowly unwinding them. Rey watches, captivated—what if his cock is something otherworldly? What if he doesn’t have one at all—or _worse_ , what if it’s proportional to the rest of him? 

He’s got the human-appearance thing down at least, though—the slap his human looking cock makes when bouncing thickly against his belly brings her out of her reverie. It looks normal—but—

“That’s too big,” Rey demands, closing her legs. 

He raises an eyebrow. “Perhaps you’re not _ambitious_?”

Rey goes pink.

“I think you’re capable, hmm? We should at least try to make it fit in your pretty little cunt.”

“But—“

“No,” his hand snaps out and grabs an ankle, dragging her back down to him with a squeak. “You’re very cute, but I recall making a deal.”

Rey ponders how much force it would take to kick his ass—but it would void the contract, if she didn’t fulfill her part.

“Okay,” she nods. She thinks of her poor grandfather—surely anything is worth the price to see him smile again.

“Roll over on your belly. Don’t make me bind you, little witch.”

Rey huffs, feeling her insides clench. Surely that was a joke—he wouldn’t tie her up immobile and slowly push his fingers inside of her until he found the spot that would make her quiver, until she was wet enough to push the tip of his cock despite her protests—

“I _might if you don’t behave_ ,” he breathes, leaning over her. She’s bent over the bed with him prowling behind her now, keeping her pressed down with the weight of his body. “You seem to like that idea, darling,”

“ _Fuck_ ,” she hisses, burying her head in the quilt from embarrassment. “Don’t do that—“

“Don’t read your mind? Or don’t restrain you until you’re a messy little creature?”

Infuriatingly, he laughs, one hand between her shoulder-blades, keeping her bent over to his liking, the other working between them until he finds the apex of her thighs. Rey jumps at the sensation—she’s the only one who’s ever touched herself there; his hands are far bigger and less delicate with each movement. 

“ _Ahh_ —wait—“ she panics—

But he doesn’t—Rey squirms and pants as one thick finger slowly works it’s way inside. She’s embarrassingly wet, slick enough that no matter how tightly she squeezed, it wasn’t enough resistance to stop him.

And to be fair, she doesn’t really _want_ him to stop.

Rey whines, unable to stop herself from jerking in his grasp—but it backfires immediately because the only thing she manages to do is fuck herself back onto his palm. The sensation is _terribly_ intense. 

And it’s only a finger. A large finger, but—how the hell was she going to—

“Relax,” he murmurs. “Relax. Just feel it. Just a stretch.”

Rey sucks in a breath and forces herself to do just that—her trembling stills slightly and her muscles go slack. She also realizes that he’s managing to pull awful, needy, wanton sounds—ones that that belong in a brothel— out of _her_.

“There you go,” he croons, a large hand gently petting her hair. “How’s that?”

Rey sniffles. “Can I— _ah_ —can I take another?”

“Little thing like you likes being stretched open, hmm?”

Rey nods, hiding her face in the blankets. 

“Use your words, little witch.”

“Please,” she hiccups, lifting her head and hardly seeing the room. “Please make me take another.”

“Good girl,” he leans over, pressing a kiss to her head. “What an obedient thing you are.”

Rey nods warily and hardly even has time to complain before another thick finger pushes in to double the stretch—She whines and spreads her legs farther when he moves them, rocking them in an out, covered in her own slick. It’s him, reaching deep inside of her, pulling out whatever he deems his.

“You like this. You like feeling good. Pleasing your master. Isn’t that right? You went straight to me with this offering.”

“Yeah,” she burbles, getting fucked on his fingers, the little purchase she had on the mattress not enough to keep her balance. He keeps slipping deeper inside, touching new places inside of her she’s never reached on her own.

“And now you’re going to give me a baby for my trouble, hmm?”

“Uh-huh,” she moans, drunk off of it. He’s moving faster, enough that she has very little time to recover from each thrust.

His thumb brushes her clit, featherlight—Rey seizes up with a jerk of her spine and a gasp—pleasure radiates down to her toes when he brushes the pink bundle of nerves.

Slick drips down her thighs as if to announce his total dominion over her cunt.

“Poor thing. You must’ve waited so long for me to show you your place.”

Rey sobs, trying anything to get more. She needs him to touch her again like that—to crest her over, to make her come with his clever fingers—

“Not yet, sweetheart.” Kylo brushes her clit just enough to remind her. “You come when I say.”

Rey sobs with frustration and pounds the bed with a fist, clenching her teeth when he pulls his hand away. When she manages to pull herself together and accept the receding orgasm, she drowsily looks over her shoulder to see him lick his fingers clean—as if she’s _delicious_.

“My very good girl,” he smiles down at her with a teasing smile. “Desperate ones always taste sweeter.”

Rey huffs. So _that’s_ why he didn’t let her come.

“Will you fuck me now?” She asks plainly. It was going to take all night if he insisted on stopping each time she reached a peak.

“If you can take it,” he gestures to his cock, the intimidating size making her wary.

“Maybe if I—“ Rey sits up, kneeling and crossing over to him. She feels very small like this—even kneeling on the bed while he stands, she still barely come up to his collarbone. “Can I touch it?” She looks up at him from under her lashes.

She watches the great Kylo Ren swallow and nod, leaning back in a silent gesture to have at it.

Rey smiles at him, wrapping one hand around his length—or attempting to, at least. Her fingers are just shy of meeting at the edges.

“Wow,” Rey says, squeezing experimentally. “It’s—yeah. You know. Do you really think it’ll fit?”

He shudders a little, which is satisfying. “Do you have any oils? Lube? That would— _ugh_ —help. Otherwise I can make you almost come again. To make you wet enough.”

Rey ponders for a moment before instructing him to grab a green ceramic pot that holds her liquid oil blends—the slight of his long fingers dipping in to capture some of the liquid is enough to make her become aware of exactly how much she wants this. 

His cock is slippery and shiney by the time he pushes her onto her back and crawls over top, caging her in on all sides beneath him. Rey takes a moment to let the realization roll over her—that this would be her last few moments as a virgin. She doubted she would feel like a new person, but granted, the experience was all new.

“Spread your legs,” he mutters, his length heavy against her thigh. “Then wrap them around me—there you go.”

Rey tries not the startle when the head of his cock nudges her cunt, but it’s hard—the anticipation mixed with her eagerness to just do it, already, has made her hypersensitive. She curls her hands into his biceps, trying to touch any part of him she can reach to ground herself.

He curses, pushing forward, steadily filling her until Rey’s eyes go wide—her body seems to know how to accommodate him despite never doing this before, and the ensuing stretch pins her beneath him, trembling and afraid to move lest he tear her in two.

“There you go—almost half.” He pauses, panting with what appears to actually be a determination to reserve his urges.

“Almost,” she squeaks in terror. “ _Half_.”

His hips slide just a little, and Rey makes a strangled noise—he’s practically in her throat _and it’s only half_.

“But—“ her voice trails off when she glances down at the place they’re joined. There’s an obvious bulge at her abdomen, the tell tale sign that someone was inside of her. And sure enough—she had a little less than half of him to go.

It was as if she could feel him throb inside of her.

“Well,” he answers, thrusting just a little again. “We can practice again. You’re bound to me until the baby, correct?”

Rey nods, wondering how she got herself into this mess.

“Now,” he says, one hand coming up to her throat and tipping her jaw back as he likes. “What do good little witches do for their masters?”

Rey feels a thumb press at the corner of her lips—she turns her head to suck gently at the digit before daring to look back at him.

She likes how he looks at her—like she’s the only one in the universe, like he’s entranced by her every move.

She shifts her hips and grinds on his cock, enough to elicit a low groan from his chest. “They take what they’re given.” She answers, nipping at his thumb.

His response isn’t another conversational jab—instead he pulls almost all the way out and then fucks into her again. Rey is blown away at the feel of it—there’s so _much_ of her inside that’s being touched, she almost can’t even comprehend it. 

But he makes her, anyways—the pace he sets as he encourages her body to open up feels too fast—but she’s proven wrong when he starts really fucking into her with abandon; Rey is tiny beneath him, legs kept open by the sheer mass of his chest, one wrist pinned down and her throat encircled by one of his large hands.

“The tightest little cunt I’ve ever had, Rey. I think I might have to keep you—“

Rey can’t help but cry each time he bottoms out—he’s shaking the whole bed with the power behind each thrust, a shuddering buildup of need and fulfillment between them.

The fingers at her throat squeeze hard enough to get her attention; Rey looks up at him with tear soaked lashes, in time to see his free hand settle between her thighs—

Her back arches off the mattress, struggling against him—the feeling of his fingers at her clit make her clench down hard on his cock. She feels like she’s reaching for something— _so_ close to the next thing, uncontrollably hurtling towards a destination by the tune of his hips and his hands—

“Kylo—“ she whines, struggling to stay in this plane of existence.

“ _Come_ , little one, come on my cock—“

Rey howls, fingernails scratching at his skin—it feels so good to just let go, thrown into the abyss where there’s nothing but pleasure.

She feels his control get thrown for a loop—Kylo drags her hips up and buries himself as deep as he can go, growling with release. It’s sticky and thick, the feeling of him emptying inside of her.Somehow this makes her blush, despite everything else they’ve already done. Now she’s really filled up, with Demon spend. 

She silently prays that Demons have a semi-reasonable refractory period; Kylo groans and pulls out of her with a positive _gush_ of liquid. Rey whimpers and finds she can hardly move, her hips are so sore.

Which is fine, because he seems content to collapse beside her (both of them trying and failing to lay out of the wet spot). Rey attempts to still her trembling limbs, curling into his side which remains burning warm.

“So,” Rey pants, sitting up on one arm to peer up at him. “How many more times do you think until I can give you a first born?”

The Prince of the Underworld groans, but really doesn’t sound _too_ disappointed.

**Author's Note:**

> I’m now on twitter if for whatever reason you need MORE bullshit in your life @TheVuasLog


End file.
